The Hand in Mine
by xxForgotten
Summary: The war is over, and Voldemort is gone. But so is everything else.  This story does not contain slash. Yet. But that depends on you.


**Title: **The Hand in Mine

**Author:** xxForgotten

**Setting: **Post-war, Hogwarts.

******Warning(s): **Nothing, really. Well, apart from "slightly depressing" if that counts too.

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to its respective owners... which sadly does not include me in any context. *Sobs*

**Summary:** The war is over, and Voldemort is gone. But so is everything else.

**A/N: **Methinks I'm going to leave whatever I'm going to say for the end of this chapter. But for now... enjoy! :)

...

_How long have I been in this storm?_  
_So overwhelmed_  
_By the ocean's shapeless forms_  
_The water's getting harder to tread_  
_With these waves crashing over my head_

The sun's hovering above the trees. It's about to set.

I know this, because I can see the fiery undersides of the clouds drifting over me.

Another dozen seconds or so, and the entire sky will be stained with oranges and lilacs and pinks, all merging into one. A breeze will make its way towards this field, stirring up fallen leaves and whistling through the grass.

The grass, dry and yellowing and marred with splashes of red.

I can feel the dying warmth on my skin, smoothing away the fatigue and the restless nights, wiping away the sweat on my brow. But it cannot wipe away what I have done, or what I have seen.

It's silent- unnaturally so. Just a moment ago this place was filled with screams so loud the blood in my veins curdled and boiled.

But now, all I can hear is the rustle of the grass and the leaves on the trees, speaking in languages I cannot understand. All I can hear is the sound of my own rattling breathing, too shaky and shallow to my own ears.

And all I can see... all I can see are things that I will spend the rest of my life trying to forget. Things, that will have me waking up soaked in my own sweat at two in the morning decades from now. Things that have already carved themselves into the backs of my eyelids, tormenting me every time I close my eyes.

And the rusty tang that cuts the air like a hot knife through butter, hanging like a set of thick curtains all around. Choking me. Suffocating me.

I feel my legs giving way, hear the soft crunch of the grass as I fall onto my knees. Ignore the maroon stain slowly working its way up the torn fabric that robes me, the warm wetness of the liquid against my skin.

The sky is growing darker.

The clouds are alight now, burning golden with an unfamiliar passion. Any second now, the ground will ignite as well, and I shall be lost in this fiery haze.

_I know you didn't_  
_Bring me out here to drown_  
_So why am I ten feet under and upside down?_  
_Barely surviving has become my purpose_  
_'Cause I'm so used to living underneath the surface_

I hear a slight sound from my right, and my heart lifts for a moment.

But no, it's probably just a terrified squirrel scampering back into the woods. Back home.

I chance the tiniest glance, but I can make out nothing from the tangle of trees beyond.

I cannot bring myself to walk over. I do not trust my leaden legs.

I cannot afford the false hope.

The silence settles again, a soft blanket over the barren earth, buzzing at my ears like flies on a lazy summer day.

I ignore the phantom flashes of red and green at the edges of my vision, the spots of lights I see when I blink. Ghostly images of curses flying past. The aching joints in my legs from constant ducking, shifting, dodging.

The pressure building behind my eyes.

The weak churning of my stomach, the burning sensation at the base of my throat.

No, there is nothing left. Nothing but the silence. The beautiful, untainted, peaceful silence that is almost yearning for the keening cry of a lark, the snorting of a centaur from the depths of the forest, the faint clatter of cutlery from the little hut beyond.

I can feel the darkness coming closer, creeping in from the edges of the woods.

The sky isn't dark enough yet to tell, but I know that there will be no stars tonight. No, not tonight.

Not with this iniquity, hovering over this god-forsaken place.

I do not know what tomorrow shall bring. And oh, how good would be if I should never need to know. If the night should come and swallow me whole, along with all that has been lost. All that I have lost, that I shall never have again.

The slightest crunch sounds beside me. I look again, and this time... this time, it is real.

The sky is a deep shade of violet by now, but it is not dark enough to blind me.

I catch the briefest glimpse of a grim face. Blond hair. Grey eyes. A blood-streaked, extended hand.

All before the failing light plunges the world into profile.

_If I could just see you_  
_Everything would be alright_  
_If I see you_  
_This darkness will turn to light_

The hand waits expectantly, an offered anchor against the storm that engulfs me, tearing my world apart. I grasp it, and it hauls me up to my feet, which I can hardly feel anymore.

I look earnestly into this face beside me, searching for anything I can recognize. Anything I can hold onto, to reassure myself that not all is lost. That hope remains. Yet all I can see are shadows.

The hand, clasped tightly in mine, is warm. Shaking, and unfamiliar, but warm.

I squint into the darkness, to no avail. I say nothing, for I know my voice, rough from a thousand angry spells, shall surely fail me.

The hand squeezes. Once, twice. An unspoken word of trust.

I hesitate, before squeezing back.

It loosens, but doesn't let go. I don't, either, because it is the only thing that is keeping me attached, that reminds me that I exist amongst this haze of shadows.

I look at the figure next to me again, studying this person who, albeit being taller, shares my physique and build. Register the slightly calloused palm of the hand.

But I know that it does not matter whom the hand belongs to.

For there is no light, and no dark in this blackness.

In this darkness, we are both lost victims in the war, mere shadows against the light. Here, there are no faces to peg a name to, no lines between right and wrong. Here, we are all silhouettes against the night sky, dark patches of absence in a child's coloring book- where one is never that different from the other.

And nothing else really matters.

_And I_  
_Will walk on water_  
_And you_  
_Will catch me if I fall_  
_And I... will get lost into your eyes_  
_And know everything will be alright_

I look up to a starless sky, at the infinite stretch of dark velvety blue above me.

I feel the soothing warmth of the hand in mine.

I smile, and wait for morning to claim the both of us.

...

**A/N**: Alright. That was depressing, I know. The song is "Storm", by Lifehouse, by the way. I'm thinking of writing another extended version of this story, which deals about what happens afterwards and will contain slash, but I'm not sure. What do you guys think? Loved it? Hated it? Review and let me know :)

(And for those disappointed in this story after Love, Defined... the next story I upload will be fluffy, I promise! :D


End file.
